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3EC 27 1915 



AGRICULTURAL EXTENSION DIVISION 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 



A RURAL DRAMA 

BY 

ESTELLE COOK 



Keep a clean hearth and a clear fire for me. 

— Tennyson, "Enoch Arden. 




GENERAL SERIES, No. 36 NOVEMBER 1915 



Entered at the Post Office 

in Minneapolis as second-class matter 

Minneapolis, Minn. 



AGRICULTURAL EXTENSION DIVISION 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 



A RURAL DRAMA 

BY 

ESTELLE COOK 



Keep a clean hearth and a clear fire for me. 

— Tennyson, "Enoch Arden. 




GENERAL SERIES, No. 36. NOVEMBER 1915 



Entered at the Post Office 

in Minneapolis as second-clasi matter 

Minneapolis, Minn. 



Copyright 1915 
The Univ'ersity of Minnesota 



jJao 42572 



PLAN OF STAGE 
ACT I 



Shelves 



Slove 



Cliair 



W 
a 
s 
h 
Door B 

e 
n 
Chair ^ 



h 



Washliih Chair 



Table 



ACT II 



Chair 



Window 



WashstancI Couch 



D 
r 



e 

s 



s 
e 



Door 



r Door 



Door 

Chair Table 



Rockina; Chair 



Chair 



ACT III 



Desk French Window 



Table with Plant 

Fireplace 
Door Library Table Door 

Morris Chair 

Arm Chair 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 

Mrs. Field, An overworked, farmer's wife 

Ned. Her young son 

Doris, Her daughter 

Mrs. Stringer, A borrowing neighbor 

Mr. Hartwell, A graduate of the Agricultural College 

Mr. Field, A prosperous farmer 

Dave Dalton, A neighbor, who "owns his own farm" 

Ida Johnson, Clerk in a department store 

Mrs. Ryan, The manager of a lodging house 

Mr. Bond, A man with money 

Miss Brooks, Visiting housekeeper for the Welfare League 

Pete, Olaf, Hired men 



ACT I 

The kitchen in the Field home 

ACT n 
A room in a cheap lodging house 

ACT HI 

The living room in the Field home 



COSTUMES 

Mrs. Field— 

Act I. Dark wrapper with gingham apron 

Act 111. Neat house dress, white apron, black hat, dust coat 

Doris — 

Act I. Dark blue house dress with gingham apron 

Act II. Suit with white waist : a becoming hat 

Act III. Large apron and dusting cap; pretty summer dress 

Ned — 

Act I. Overalls and old shirt ; short trousers 

Act III. Short trousers and light shirt 
Mr. Hartwell — 

Act I. Light gray suit; straw hat 

Act III. Dark suit, motor coat and cap 

Mrs. Stringer — 

Act I. Old waist and skirt fastened with safety pin ; sunbonnet 
Act III. Same, only more untidy 

Mr. Field — 

Act I. Dark shirt, overalls 
Act III. Light shirt, dark suit 

Miss Brooks — 

Act II. Suit skirt and silk waist 

Act III. Pretty light dress, motor coat, hat, and veil 

Ida Johnson — 

Elaborate suit witli heavily trimmed waist; hat loaded with flowers; 
ear-rings 

Mrs. Ryan — 

Act II. Red plaid gingham waist with dark skirt 
Act III. Neat, dark house dress, gingham apron 

Hired Men — 

Dark shirts, overalls 



PROPERTIES 



Washtub and washboard 

Soiled overalls and shirts 

Soap 

Candy 

Salt pork and knife 

Bandage 

Snuffbox 

Bulletin 

Ball 



Cups and plates 

Coffee and coffee pot 

Salt and tea 

Pie 

Doughnuts 

Cookies 

Cake 

Rolls and butter 

Letter 



ACT II 



Bananas 

Rolls 

Oil or alcohol stove 

Toilet articles 

Washliowl and pitcher 



Waist 

Dishes 

Letter 

Photograph 

Large box of candy 



Flowers 

Vases 

Lemonade 

Tray and glasses 

Telephone 

Hand bag with postcard and pen 



Vacuum cleaner 
Cream whip 
Dish drainer 
Fruit press 
Photograph 
Bank l)ook 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 
ACT I 

Scene, an untidy farm kitchen. In the center of the stage, at the back, 
is an old stove, at the left of this, a cupboard, and at the left of the cup- 
board a dry sink with ivash basin, slop pail, and roller towel. At the right 
center are two old chairs holding a washtnh. At the left center a kitchen 
table spread with dark oilcloth. On the floor near the tub is a pile of 
dirty shirts and overalls. Mrs. Field is discovered washing at the tub. 
Ned is playing with a ball. C. 

Mrs. Field. Put that ball away, and go and pile the kindlings I split 
in the woodshed while they're dry. 

Ned. Gee whiz! Has a kid got to work all the time? 

Mr.s. Field. You hain't killed yourself yet. 

Ned. Say, ma, ain't you goin' to let me play ball this afternoon? 
District 26 is goin' to wipe the earth with the guys from District 2. 

Mrs. Field. No, you can't go. Your father needs you to drive the 
hayfork when he comes in with the hay. It saves a man's work. Now, 
go do what I tell you. (Ned crosses to R.) Come here. Let me look at 
you. Them overalls is dirty an' they've got to be washed. 

Ned. No, ma, they're all right. They're clean enough. 

Mrs. Field. No, they ain't. Take 'em off an' let me wash 'em. 

Ned. Gee! ma, can't a feller go dirty if he wants to? 

Mrs. Field. Stop your noise, an' take 'em off. It's hard enough to 
wash your old clothes without havin' a fight to get 'em off your body. 

Ned (taking off overalls). Gosh! can't a kid ever do what he wants 

to? (Throzus overalls.) 

(Exit Ned, R. 

(Enter Doris, L., with a pail in one hand and an armful of wood. 
She puts the wood by the stoze and the pail by the sink.) 

Mrs. Field. Did you dig the potatoes for dinner? 

Doris. Yes, mother, they are out here in the basket. 

Mrs. Field (in a complaining voice). Now, you'd better hurry up 
with that lunch. The men will be in here to eat before you have it ready 
for 'em. I've got to get this washing out of the way before dinner time. 
Seems as if the washing gets bigger and bigger all the time. 

Doris. Let me rub for awhile, mother, and rest you. 

Mrs. Field. No, I've got my hands in it and I might as well keep at 
it. You get the lunch set out. 

Doris. What shall I give them? 

Mrs. Field. As if you didn't know as well as I do what's in the 
house. There are those fresh buns and pieplant pie and ginger cookies 
and doughnuts. Yes, and fruit cake, don't forget that. You can butter 
the buns, it will save butter, and make a pot of coffee, good and strong. 
They need something to brace 'em up so as they can get the hay in that's 



8 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 



cut. Give 'em some of the doughnuts, too, they Hke 'em with their coffee. 

Doris (setting out the lunch). It seems to me, mother, that this isn't 
a very good hmch for hard-working men. 

Mrs. Field. What more would you want ? That's plenty good enough. 
Now, hurry and get it on the tahle, and don't stand there all day talking 
about it. 

Doris. Don't be so cross, mother. 

Mrs. Field. You'd be cross, too, if you had all these dirty, sweaty 
shirts to wash. Men do get their clothes so filthy dirty in hayin' time. 




Mrs. Field: Men do get their clotlies .'^o filthy dirty in hayin' time. 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 9 

If you've got the coffee on, go down to the well and get a pail of water 
for them to wash in. 

Doris. Mother, why don't you let the men wash outside like Mrs. 
Smith does? 

Mrs. Field. I'm not so partic'lar as Mrs. Smith. She's afraid of 
gettin' a spot of water on her kitchen floor. I don't want to carry my 
soap and towels outdoors for the men to throw around. Now go and get 
that water, I say. Why is it you stand and oppose everything I ask you 
to do? {Doris goes out with pail, L. Enter Ned, R., crying.) Land 
sakes ! What's the matter now ? 

Ned. Father sent me out to drive the cattle back where they broke 
out of the pasture, and there by the old fence I stepped on a nail and it 
hurts awful. {Sobs.) 

Mrs. Field {wiping tier hands on Iter apron.) Let's see your foot. 
Was it a rusty nail? 

Ned {crying). I don't know. I guess so. (5/7.? C.) 

Mrs. Field. Well, stop your crying. I'll tie some salt pork on it. 
That will draw out the poison. 

Ned. It'll make it smart. I don't want any salt pork on it. {Whines.) 

Mrs. Field. Well, you've got to have it, so you might as well keep 
still. {Goes out L. Ned tries to sneak out R. Enter Mrs. Field, L., ivith 
pork and bandage.) Here, come back. 

Ned. Frank Smith's mother puts something out of a bottle on him 
when he gets hurt, and it makes it feel awful good. Oh! Oh! I hate 
salt pork. {Ned sits, €., and cries zigorously.) 

Mrs. Field. Stop your noise and hold still. I guess I know as much 
about what's good for you as Mrs. Smith. My mother put on salt pork 
and her mother before her and we haven't any of us died with the lockjaw 
either. {Binds on pork ivith bandage.) 

{Enter Doris, R.) 

Doris. What's the matter, Ned, what are you crying about? 

Mrs. Field. Oh, he's gone and hurt himself on a rusty nail. Seems 
as if everything is comin' to hinder me today when I want to get my 
washin' out. 

Doris. Poor Ned, I'm sorry it hurts you. Now, if you'll be brave 
and stop crying, what do you think I'll do? 

Ned {tviping his eyes). I dunno. What? 

Doris. I'll give you some of the candy I got last night. 

Ned. I'll stop right away. Did Dave bring you another bo.x, honest? 

Doris. You just wait and see. {Goes to cupboard and brings out 
bag.) 

Ned. Say, Sis, Dave's your beau, ain't he? {Grabs a handful of 

candy.) 

Mrs. Field. Look out for that coffee. It's going to boil over. Ned, 
take j'our candy and get out of here. Sister's got to get lunch ready for 
the men. Get out, I say! {Ned goes out, R.) You two are enough to 
drive a woman distracted. Him talkin' about you havin' a beau. 



10 KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 

Doris. It does sound foolish, doesn't it, mother? When Dave is 
just a friend. Now we're on the subject, I want to ask you if I can go 
to an alumni picnic this afternoon at Bass Lake. The bunch I went with 
when I was in high school are all going, and thej'rc planning such a lovely 
time. David has asked me to go with him. 

Mrs. Field. Go to a picnic this afternoon ! Have you gone stark 
crazy? A picnic on wash day and in hayin' time! No, indeed! There is 
something more important for you to do here at home than to be running 
around the country to picnics. 

Doris. But, mother, David is going to take me in his new automobile. 
I want to go awfully — 

Mrs. Field. Well, that settles it. 

Doris. It's a fine new Ford. 

Mrs. Field. A Ford ! An automobile ! I won't have you chasing 
around the country in an automobile with Dave Dalton, or anybody else. 
He'll run you into a tree, as like as not, and knock your brains out. Now, 
you get that idea out of your head. An' I'll tell Dave what I think of 
him, too, when I see him. 

Doris. Mother, please don't be so unreasonable ! Dave knows per- 
fectly well how to run it. There isn't the slightest danger. (Crosses 
to door, L. ) 

Mrs. Field {slapping her clothes doivn on the zvashboard). You 
heard what I said — • 

Doris {crossing to C.) Hush, mother, here somes Mrs. Stringer. 

Mrs. Field. Well, for pity's sake! Sarah Ann Stringer comin' here! 
Now I never will get my washin' out. Go to the door and let her in. 
{Enter Mrs. Stringer, L.) 

Mrs. Stringer. Good mornin', Doris. How do you do, Molly? Land 
sakes ! Are you a washin' in the kitchen this hot day? Why don't you 
wash outside? or have a shed to wash in, like I do? It's bad enough to 
have the smell and clutter in the house in the winter-time when we have to. 
When summer comes I'm mighty glad to get it outside. 

Doris. That's what I tell mother. 

Mrs. Field. Now look lere, Sarah Ann Stringer, I guess I know 
what I'm a doing as well as any one can tell me. My work is here in this 
kitchen. I can't be runnin' out and in doors every time I want to put a 
stick of wood in the stove. I'll tell you, with all the work there is to do 
around this house my time is valuable. {Washes vigorously.) 

Mrs. Stringer. Mrs. Smith has what she calls a laundry-room built 
onto her kitchen, an' she's got one of them new-fangled wasliin' machines 
run by 'lectricity. I'd be scared to death to use one for fear I'd get a 
current through me an' die like I was struck by lightnin'. 

Doris (bringing a chair to stage center). Won't you have a chair, 
Mrs. Stringer? 

Mrs. Stringer. Well, I will set a few minutes if I ain't botherin' 
nobody. (Sits.) 

(Knock at door, R.) 

Mrs. Field. Come in. 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 11 

(Enter Mr. Hartwell) 

Mr. Hartwell. Good morning. {Takes off cap.) My name is Hart- 
well. This is Mrs. Field, I suppose. Mr. Field said I would find you 
here. 

Mr.s. Field. Yes, that's my name. This is Mrs. Stringer, an' that's 
my daughter, Doris. 

Mr. Hartwell. I'm very glad to know you, ladies. I am introducing 
a new and valuable work into the farm homes of the community. (Dis- 
plays book.) 

Mrs. Field. I hain't got time to look at no books today. 

Mr. Hartwell. It will take but a minute to show it. It is called 
the "Farm Home." (Opens book.) This is published, as you see, by 
some of the leading agricultural men of the state, and deals with all the 
problems that are of interest to the farmer and his family. I would be 
very glad to show it to you. I know you are busy — 

Mrs. Field. Yes, I'm always busy. 

Mr. Hartwell. It will take but a moment to look it through. The 
first chapter deals with the home. The women should be considered first, 
you know. (Laughs.) Here is the model farm house. (Mrs. Field gets 
interested) , kitchen (turns over a leaf), basement (turns oz'cr another 
leaf), sleeping rooms, and so on. The second takes up the subject of 
domestic science — 

Mrs. Stringer (interrupting). Domesticated science, huh! So that's 
what you're selling. (Hartzvcll crosses to C.) Well, you might as well 
go back to the company as sent you out, an' save your breath. 

Mr. Hartwell (interrupting). Why, Mrs. Stringer- — 

Mrs. Stringer. We know how to run our kitchens in this part of 
the country as well as them folks as write books about it. (Mr. Hartwell 
gets a chair and sits by Mrs. Stringer.) 

Mr. Hartwell. Surely, Mrs. Stringer — 

Mrs. Stringer (interrjipting) . I tell you we know what we're doing 
as well as you can tell us. Some young chit of a girl goes off to college 
for a few weeks when she ought to be stayin' to home an' helpin' her 
mother — 

Mr. Hartwell (interrupting). Mrs. Stringer, I think — 

Mrs. Stringer (interrupting). Then she sets down an' writes a book 
tellin' us old housekeepers what to do. As if we didn't know all about it 
before she was born. 

Mr. Hartwell. But. my dear madam, this was written by — 

Mrs. Stringer (interrupting) . I don't care who this was written by. 
I know what I'm talkin' about. 

Mr. Hartwell (continuing speech). Part II of the book takes up 
the farmer's side of the problem. Breeding, testing milk — 

Mrs. Stringer. The farmers 'round here ain't interested in sich 
nonsense. 

Mr. Hartwell (interrupting). You don't — ■ 

Mrs. Stringer (interrupting). If you want to talk stock-breeding 



12 KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 

go to Mr. Smith. He wanted Jake, my husband, to pay one hundred dol- 
lars for a pure-bred calf. One hundred dollars for a little calf! The 
very idea ! I said "No", an' 1 said it so loud he never came back again. 
You're just wastin' your time tryin' to sell sich a book 'round here, yes, 
indeed. 

Mr. Hartwell. Then I can't interest you? 

Mrs. Stringer. No, an' it looks as if Molly is too busy to be both- 
ered, so you'd better be movin' on. 

Mrs. Field. Yes, I've got to get my washin' out some time today. 
(Mr. Hartwell stands.) Good morning! 

Mr. Hartwell. Well, I'm sorry that you can't take the time — 

Mrs. Stringer (interrupting). Farmers' folks' time is valuable. We 
farmers' wives have a lot of things to do. I said to Mrs. Fink, I said, sez I 
— {Book agent goes out.) There, I got rid of him. If you give them 
agents half a show, they'll hang around and pester the life out of you all 
day. 

Doris. That book seemed to me to be very helpful. 

Mrs. Field. If you have the coffee made, just go out an' see if the 
old yeller hen has left her chickens again. She — 

(Exit Doris, R. 

Mrs. Stringp:r (iiitrnnptiiii:,) . Land sakes ! Molly, you don"t tell 
me that you lunch your men. That comes from bavin' these foreigners 
around here. I've heard tell that in the ol' country they eat five times a 
day. Now they come over here an' expect us to feed 'em more times than's 
good for 'em. I told Mrs. Dixon the other day, I sez to her, sez I — 

(Enter Doris, R.) 

Doris. The men are coming in from the field, mother. 

Mrs. Stringer. Land sakes! Llere I've talked all this time and I 
haven't yet told you what I come for. I want to borrow a few drawin's 
of tea, if you have it to spare, and a cup of salt. I said to Jake last 
night, I sez, "Jake," sez I — 

Doris. Here is the tea, Mrs. Stringer, I'll get your salt in a minute. 

Mrs. Stringer. This is black tea (examining it), ain't it? You 
always have sich good tea. I send to Montgomery Ward for mine. I 
save 2 cents a pound on it, cheaper than I can get it down at the store. 
I get most of my groceries there when I have ready money to send for 
"em. Williams don't like it any too well, either, but I said to him, 
sez I, — 

Doris. Here is the cup of salt. Can I do anything more for you? 

Mrs. Stringer. No, I guess this is all for this time. I'm expectin' 
the box from Montgomery Ward's most any time now, as I was sayin' — 
Now, what was I sayin'? 

Doris. I don't remember just what you were saying, Mrs. Stringer, 
but won't you sit down and have some coffee before the men come in ? 

Mrs. Stringer. Well, now, this is invitin', your coffee is always so 
good. (Sits at end of table.) 

(Enter Mr. Field, Olaf, Pete, and Ned, L. Each takes a drink of zvater. 
Mr. Field zvashes his hands.) 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 13 

Mr. Field. How do you do, Mrs. Stringer. Pretty good liayin' 
weather, I call it. 

Mrs. Stringer. Yes, indeed, the weather is all right. I was sayin' 
to Jake just yesterday, sez I, "Jake, we ain't had sich hayin' weather since 
the year of the big freshet." That was the year Jake cut twenty tons of 
good hay off his bottom land. He— 

{One of the men lias been playing with Ned.) 

Ned (interrupti>ig) . Here, you stop that, you hurt my sore foot. 
(Pete picks him up and h(dds him in the air.) Ma, make him quit. 

Pete. Cry baby, cry baby. What's the matter with your foot? 

DoRi.s. He stepped on a rusty nail. Sit down, your lunch is ready. 
There, Ned, don't cry any more. 

Ned. Say, Sis, will you give me some more candy if I stop? (Tlie 
men seat themselves at the tabic.) 

Doris. Yes, dear, wait until the men have gone out. 

Pete. This stepping on a nail is pretty dangerous business. I knew 
a feller once who stepped on a nail and blood pizen set in, an' he had to 
have his foot took square off. He ain't got no foot left. 

Olaf. Ya, dis been bad pizness all right. Ay stuck a nail in my 
hand von time ven I was fixing de fence. My hand he svelled up yust so 
big as von fence post. Aj' couldn't do no vork all summer. 

Ned (crying again). Ma, my foot's hurtin' awful bad. 

Mrs. Field. Oh, stop your noise! It'll be all right soon. That salt 
pork'll take the poison out. 

Mrs. Stringer. Salt pork is good an' so is golden ile made of roots 
and yarbs. Mis' Stone has some. H it gets any worse, you can borry 
some of¥ her. That's what I do. Well, I must be goin'. (Starts toward 
door.) Say, have you heard about Ida Johnson? You know she went 
to town to work in a department store. Her mother read me a letter 
what she got from her yesterday, an' she says she likes it so well she 
never wants to come back to the farm to stay any more. She says she 
never has to even soil her hands, mind you that, she sez, sez she. "I never 
have to soil my hands an' I can do just as I please Sundays and evenin's." 
I suppose all the girls around here will be runnin' to town to work in 
department stores. Well, I must be goin'. Thank you, Molly, for the tea 
and the salt. Til bring 'em back as soon as we get the box. Come over 
and set with me when you get time. Good-bye. 

Mrs. Field. Good-bye, Mrs. Stringer. Never mind about bringing 
back the things. You're welcome to them. 

(Exit Mrs. Stringer. L.) 

Pete. Whee ! that woman would talk an arm off a wooden image 
in front of a cigar store. Can you beat it? 

Olaf. She ban good talker, all right. (All laugh.) 

Ned. Say, pa, can I join the boys' corn club? 

Mr. Field. What for? 

Ned. To raise corn. 

Mr. Field. Sure, raise all the corn vou can. 



14 KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 

Ned. But you have to rent me an acre of your land. Ne.xt fall I will 
select my .seed, I test it in the spring and jdant it. See, this bulletin 
(Exhibits bulletin.) tells all about it. 

Mr. Field. What nonsense will they be up to next? This comes of 
putting agirculture in the school. No you can't join any corn club. Tell 
'em I said so, too. (Ah'd grabs a piece of pie and n doughnut.) 

{Exit Ned. L. 

Pete (laughing) . They'll soon make the kids believe they know how 
to run the farm better than the old men do. 

Olaf. Ja, dey tink dat now. (All laugJi.) 

Pete. What you goin' to do with your hay? 

Mr. Field. Feed it, I s'pose. I may sell some. 

Pete. Did ynu hear that Dick Johnson is buildin' a silo? He calcu- 
lates to cut up his fodder corn an' put it into it to make feed for his 
cattle. 

Mr. Field. He is, is he? There's a lot of talk about them silos, 
but I tell yon what, it's just huminig. Some of these city fellers want to 
get hold of the farmers' money. (Picks teetli.) They're always workin' 
some scheme or other to get it. T know what I'll do with mine. I'll salt 
it down in the bank at three and a half per cent interest, an' when I want 
it ril know where to find it. 

Pete. Smith's makin' a lot of improvements ar()und his i)lacc. I was 
over there last week an' he's got his house all tore up puttin' in a heatin' 
plant an' a bathtub, just like the city folks have. 

Olaf. Dar ban one farmer over by my plas, whose house ban yust 
like city house, Dar ban faucets in de kitchen where you can get hot 
water. It ban yust fine, I tall you. 

Mr. Field. Wall, us farmers can't afford to tear our houses to pieces 
an' fix 'em up like them folks what live in t<')wn. We have other ways 
to use our hard-earned money. We've got to buy new machinery an' more 
stock. The men in town don't have no other way to spend their money 
than by tearing their houses up and buyin" automobiles. Believe me, I 
have as good a well as there is in the state, an' I ain't goin' to spend my 
money puttin' fancy fixin's in the kitchen. (Rises from fable.) It's all 
dum foolishness. 

Pete (rising). It makes it fine for the women folks, all right. 
(Olaf puts all that is left on the table into his pocket, rises and gets hat.) 

Mr. Field (picking up hat). I propose to keep my well where it's 
most needed, an" that's where the cattle can get at it. 

(Exit Mr. Field and Olaf. L. 
(Enter Ned, L.) 

Pete (hitting Ned on head zvith hat). You want to be careful of that 
foot, kid, you may get hydrophia in it, like Doc. Perkins' little dog. 

(Exit Pete, L., laughing. 

Doris. Don't pay any attention to him, brother, he's just teasing you. 
Run out to the box, dear, and get the mail. I see the postman has left a 
letter. (Ned goes out, L.) I am expecting one from Ida Johnson. She 
seems to like the city. 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 15 

Mrs. Field. Well, city folks don't have it as hard as we do. We 
have to slave from morning till night. I'm glad she has it easy. Pick 
up the dishes while I hang out these clothes. 

(Exit Mrs. Field, R., zvith basket of clothes. 
(Enter Xcd, L., icith letter.) 

DoRi-S. Is it for me? 
Ned. You bet. 
Doris. Give it to me. 

Ned. No, I won't, 'til you give me the candy you promised me. Look 
what Pete gave me. (Exhibits cigarette.) 

Doris. Give that to me. I'll tell mother on you. (Takes it.) 
Ned. Tattle-tale. Some day I'm going to get one and smoke it, too. 
Doris. Here's your candy. Now give me my letter. 
Ned. Here it is. (She opens letter and reads. Ned puts a piece of 
candy in each pocket and one in his nioiith.\ Say, Sis, Dave's your beau, 
ain't he? I just saw him comin' over the hill in his auto? When are 
you goin' to have him give me a ride in his new auto? Sis — say. Sis, 
you seem to be awfully interested in that letter. 
Doris. It's from Ida Johnson. 

Ned. I s'pose she's tellin' you all about livin' in the city where she 
don't have to soil her hands. 

Doris (reading.) Yes. dear. 

Ned (looking out of windozu.) Oh, Sis, Dave's lurnin' into our gate. 
Maybe he's comin' now to give me a ride. I'll go out and see. 

(Exit Ned, L. 
(Doris folds letter thoughtfully and then hurries to clear off table.) 

(Enter Dave and .\ed, L.) 
Doris. How do you do, Dave? You look as if you enjoyed your 
new auto. 

D.'WE. You bet I do. I am getting so I can run it fine. It's dandy, 
great ! 

Ned. Say, Dave, when are you going to take me for a ride? 
Dave. 'Most any time. 
Ned. Will you take me today? 

Dave. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll take you today if you'll go out 
and sit in the machine until I get there. Mind you don't touch anything, 
and if you get out before I come, I won't take you. 

Ned. I'll wait for you. Gee! I'm going to have a ride before Sis 
does. 

(Exit Ned, L. 
D.WE. Can't you let the dishes go for a few minutes. I want to talk 

to }'OU. 

Doris. W'on't you have a doughnut or a piece of pie? 

D.WE. You bet, if you made them. (Takes a doughnut.) I came to 
tell you about this afternoon. I thought it would be a good stunt to start 
early, say three o'clock, and ride around by Weston before we joined the 
crowd at the lake. The roads are dandy that way. 



16 KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 

Doris. Dave, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you Mother says 
I can't go. 

David. Why not? Is she afraid of the auto? I'll take the team. 

Doris. No, that wouldn't make any difference. 

David. What is it, then? Does she object to you're going with me? 

Doris. Oh, no, that isn't the reason, either. 

David. What is it. then? Can't you tell me? 

Doris. It's this way. Mother is washing today and that always makes 
her cross and unreasonable. I suppose it is because she is tired out. 
Father is putting in hay and we have extra men to cook for. She doesn't 
feel that she can get along without me. 

Dave (sifting dou'ii.) Pshaw, I'm awfully disappointed. 

Doris. So am I. 

Dave. Can't you manage it some way? 

Doris. No. You'll have to take some other girl. 

David (standing). I don't want to take another girl. I want you. 

Doris. Well, I can't go, so that settles it. (Dave takes up cap and 
starts tu go.) Dave, wait a minute, I have something to tell you. I have 
just had a letter from Ida Johnson. You know she is clerking in a depart- 
ment store. She says they are taking on a lot of new girls the first of 
September and she wants me to come, says she can get a place for me. 

Dave. You go to the city and clerk in a department store? 

Doris. Yes, that's what she writes. (Opens letter.) She says that 
I can live with her, and we can get our meals together and save expenses. 
She's ever so anxious to have me come. 

Dave. But you're not thinking of going, are you ? 

Doris. Yes, Dave. I am. I'm getting pretty tired of living on a farm. 
It's just work, work, all the time without any chance for good times. Here 
I can't even go to a picnic because it's wash day and father is haying. 

Dave. Your mother should let you go. 

Doris. Now, if I were working for myself, I could l)e independent. 
If I wanted to go to a party I could go without asking any one. 

Dave. How could your mother get along without your help? Have 
you thought of that ? 

Doris. Yes, I have. It's easy enough to get help if one pays for it. 
Here's father with two extra men helping him. If I wasn't here, he'd 
have to get someone to help mother. Then she wouldn't have to do the 
washing and the other heavy work. 

David. But, Doris', I don't want you to go. 

Doris. Why should I stay around here? I'm twenty-one years old. 
old enough to get out and see the world. "Try my wings," as they say. 

David. A good many birds fly out of the nest who wish they hadn't. 
There are all kinds of temptations for girls who go to the city. 

Doris. I'm not a bit afraid. I can take care of myself. 

David. Doris, there is another good reason why you shouldn't go 
away. I've had it on my tongue to tell you a thousand times. I love you, 
Doris, have loved you, I guess, ever since we were kids and went to district 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 17 

school together, you know, and traded lunches. I have always known 
that some day I would ask you to be my wife. 

Doris. Oh, David, please don't ! 

David. Yes, I will, and you must listen to me. I have a fine farm 
now in my own name and some good stock. Cut out that talk about going 
to the city and come and live with me, be my wife, won't you? 

Doris. No, Dave, 1 hate the farm. I never, never could think of 
being a farmer's wife. The very thought of it makes me sick. I guess 
I've had too much of it. I'm going away where I can have a little free- 
dom. {David drops dejectedly into chair.) 

{Enter Mrs. Field, R.) 

Mrs. Field. How do you do, David? Haven't you got them dishes 
washed yet, Doris? I wanted you to go out and pick some gooseberries 
for pies for lunch tomorrow and clean the lamps. {Looks from one to 
the other.) What's the matter, David? You don't look well. 

David. I'm not well, Mrs. Field. Doris has just told me some news 
that's sort o' knocked me out. 

Mrs. Field. What you been tellin' Dave? 

Doris. I've just had a letter from Ida Johnson. She wants me to 
come to the city and work with her in the store. 

David {standing). I've tried my best to talk her out of going. 

Doris. .But I won't be persuaded. 

Mrs. Field. What do you mean ? 

Doris. I mean that I won't be persuaded. I've made up my mind. 
I'm tired and sick of the farm and I'm going to the city. 

{Mrs. Field sinks into chair with apron to eyes.) 
{Enter Ned) 

Ned. Aren't you ever coming to give me that ride? 

(Curtaiti) 



ACT II 

Scene, a room in a cheap lodging house. In the center of the stage, at 
the hack, is a cot bed, at the left of this, an old dresser. At the right of 
the bed is a washstand ivith bond and pitcher. At the right center is a 
small table and tzvo chairs. An old rocking chair is at the left center. 
Ida Johnson discovered combing out switch at the dresser. Slie is singing 
a popular song, 

Ida (breaking off song suddenly). Gosh! How does that go? 
(Turns.) You're late tonight, Do. Did anything exciting happen? 

Doris. No, not especially. Why? (Takes off hat and coat.) 

Ida (arranging hair). I thought maybe you'd run away with "His 
Nibs," that floor-walker who is so crazy about you; or that the new 
swell guy I saw hanging out at your counter had taken you out for a joy 
ride. 

Doris. Nothing half so thrilling. I saw a box of little chickens in 
one of the downtown windows as I came home. The poor little motherless 
things were trying to crawl under each other and go to sleep. I just 
wanted to sit down on the walk and have a good cry for them and for 
myself. They somehow made me think of home. I watched them until 
the shades were pulled down for the night. 

Ida (turning around). There j-ou go again, harping about home. 
Makes me feel like thirty cents having sent for you. Forget it and have 
a good time like I do. (Crosses to table.) What did you bring for 
eats? 

Doris (arranging table). Not much. I wasn't hungry tonight so I 
just bought six buns and half a dozen bananas, they were only ten cents 
a dozen at the Greek's. (Puts fruit and buns on plates.) 

Ida (going back to dresser). That's cheap. We can save on our 
supper tonight. I won't eat much, for Bill always sets up a feed after 
the movies. Are you going out tonight? 

Doris (heating ivatcr oz'cr gas jet or alcohol stove). I don't know. 
I partly promised that I would go. It's been such a hot, disagreeable day, 
you know. There was a bargain sale on in neckwear and the whole city 
turned out. I thought I would drop in my tracks before the six o'clock 
gong sounded. 

Ida. Yep, it was a lieastly day. 

Doris. When ?\Ir. Bond, the man you saw at the counter, asked me 
to go out for an auto ride and a dance after, at some road house. 1 thought 
I would like to go and said so. Automobiles always seem to be my weak- 
ness. 

Ida. Gee! So the old guy has come across. You'll have a peachy 
time. Wish I was going. 

Doris. Come and have your supper, and tell me what a road house is. 

Ida (crossing to table). I don't know exactly 'cause I've never seen 
one. But the girls say they are kind of club houses, out in the country, 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 19 

where the swells stop for eats. {Girls seat themselves.) Say, but this is 
what I call a slim meal. I wonder what they'd say at home if they could 
see us now. (Girls eat supper.) Please pass the fried chicken. Try 
some of the strawberry shortcake. Will you have it plain or with whipped 
cream? Have some of the watermelon pickles. 

Doris. Hush, Ida, you make me ravenous. I'll have to go and buy 
the town out. 

Ida. Charge it to yourself if you do. I'm economizing. There is a 
perfect dream of a white willow plume that I have my eye on. (Panto- 
mimes plume on hat.) I just got to have it for my winter lid. If I can 
save a dollar a week for ten weeks, the dream is mine. (Harsh voice 
singing Tipperary, outside.) Good heavens, here comes Mrs. Ryan! What 
on earth will we do with the grub? She'll fire us sure if she sees us 
eating here again. (The girls jump up and hide supper in drawers of 
z<'aslistand and dresser. Voice heard retreating.) 

Doris. She isn't coming here, after all. She's gone liack downstairs. 
Ida. Saved again. (They put food hack on table.) What was I 
talking about? 

Doris. Your dream of a plume. Look out, that it doesn't turn out to 
1)e a nightmare. Do you realize you are getting too extravagant? 

Ida. Well, ain't I trailing with that kind of people? Now. the guy 
I'm going out with tonight wouldn't be seen with a girl if she didn't look 
swell. 

Doris. 1 haven't been here very long but I can't for the life of me 
see how we're going to hve and keep well dressed on the money we make. 
Ida. It ain't no landslide. I saw a big crowd around your counter 
today ; how much did you make ? 

Doris. If it keeps up, I'll have over eight dollars for the week. 
Ida. Gee, that's great for a new girl. I saw that guy trailing around 
and making eyes at you. So he has a car. He'll show you a swell time, 
all right. I wish an auto would come my way. (Rises.) I must go, I 
promised Bill to meet him at the first performance. (Puts on hat.) 

Doris. Ida, do you know I'm a little suspicious of these "rich guys," 
as you call them, who scrape an acquaintance with the girls in the ^tore. 
What do you know about them ? 

Ida. Believe me, they have the dough and know how to show a girl 
a peachy time if we're smart enough to land them. Take my advice and 
go while the going's good. 

Doris. Do they ever marry the girls from the store? 
Ida. I should say not! I'hey just rush a girl till they get tired of 
her and then pick up another. Gee ! I wish I was going to a dance. I'll 
try to make Bill take me to Dreamland after the show. I'm crazy about 
the grapevine. (Dances grapevine step.) 

Doris (rising and stacking dishes). Ida, do you know you've changed 
a lot since you came to the city. 

Ida. I hope so, everyone ought to. (Powders face.) 
Doris. I don't believe I'll go tonight after all. Aren't you putting on 
too much powder? 



20 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 



Ida (furniiiii). What, miss a good time like that? You certainly are 

some simp. Are you still moping around about that Dave Dalton who 

used to take you home from church on Sunday nights? Believe me, those 
were thrilling times, all right. 




Tdri .Johnson: Take my advice and go while the going's good. 

Doris. It doesn't seem to me that the men who pick up with the girls 
in the store can have much respect for them. They're just amusing them- 
selves. If we go out with them can we keep our self-respect? 'Will 
they— 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 21 

Ida. Go-od night ! would you mind cutting out that Sunday school 
dope? What's the dif. as long as they show us a good time? Even your 
staid and steady farmers are fickle. I got a letter from mother today. 
(Hunts in bag.) She say.s — Where is that letter? 

Doris (crossing to C.) Did she say anything about— about the folks? 

Ida. She wrote something about Dave, if he's the folks. I can't find 
the letter, but she said Dave had rented his farm and gone west and they 
say he's sweet on a school teacher out there. (Puts on Jiat.) Does my 
hat look all right? 

Doris (returning to tabic). Yes. but wipe some of the powder ofif. 
It shows. 

Ida. Where are my gloves? (Turns contents of dresser drawer 
over.) Why, here is the letter now, I'll let you read it. 

Doris. Thanks. There are the gloves on the chair. 

Ida. You'd better get your hair combed. Do it up in that becoming 
way. The men like to take out girls who are good lookers. My ! I 
must hurry, good-bye (at door). Have a good time while you're young, 
for when you're old you won't — good-bye. 

(Exit Ida. L. 

Doris sits and reads letter, puts head on table, knocking off cup and 
spilling li'ater on rug. 

(Enter Mrs. Ryan. L.) 

Mrs. Ryan. For the love of Mike! What are ye up to next? 

Doris (xuiping up xi'ater with handkerchief). I just spilled a little 
water on the rug. I don't think it will hurt it any. 

Mrs. Ryan. Here ye are messing around the room again. Didn't I 
tell ye I wouldn't have it? Ye're not to do any more cooking in this room, 
I say. I won't have it. Gettin' me rugs all covered with grase and dirt. 

Doris. But, Mrs. Ryan, you're mistaken. Listen. I just made a little 
tea to drink with our supper. 

Mrs. Ryan. Well, I can't have you aitin' your meals here, I tell you. 
This hain't no restaurant nor cafe nayther. (Crosses to R.) For the love 
of Mike, what next? (Fishes zvaist out of wash basin.) Will ye be after 
making this room into a stame laundry, too? (Doris crosses to L.) 

Doris. I can't see, Mrs. Ryan, that it is hurting your room any for 
us to wash out a few waists and handkerchiefs. If you object we will 
have to move, that's all. We can't afford, on eight dollars a week, to send 
our waists to the laundry, or take all of our meals at the restaurant. 

Mrs. Ryan (cooling dozen). Well, now, listen to that, will ye? No 
one expects ye to, nayther do they expect ye to live on eight dollars a 
week. 

Doris. Well, that is all I can make at the store, even when sales are 
good. 

Mrs. Ryan. How long is it now since ye were after workin' in the 
city? 

Doris. I came the first of September. 

Mrs. Ryan. Ah, ye're a grane one. Ye haven't caught on to the 
wavs vet. 



22 KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 

Doris. What ways? 

Mrs. Ryan. Well, dear, ye're a good-looking girl, if I must say it. 
The thing for ye to do is to get a gentleman friend to take ye out. No 
one expects ye to live here on eight dollars a week. Faith, an' it can't 
be done. 

Doris. Then I'll have to move to a cheaper place. I'm going to live 
on eight dollars a week until I can earn more. (Bell rings.) 

Mrs. Ryan. That pesky bell! There it goes again. (Goes out sing- 
ing "It's a long way to Tipperary." Doris liurriedly clears table.) 
(Enter Mrs. Ryan and Mr. Bond, L.) 
Mrs. Ryan. Some one to see ye. Miss. Ye must excuse the appear- 
ance of the room, sor. The girls were just after indulgin' in a little 
spread, like. 

Mr. Bond. I understand. How do you do, Miss Field. (Crosses to 
C.) Are you ready for the ride I promised you? 

Mrs. Ryan (at L.). She'll be ready in a jiffy, sor. just has to tidy 
her hair and slip on her hat and gloves. I always tell Miss Field she looks 
just like she had stepped out of a bandbox. 

Doris (at table. R.). You are very kind, Mr. Bond, but I have 
changed my mind, and decided that I had better not go. 

Mr. Bond. Oh. pshaw ! It's a perfect evening. We'll go to the 
dance for a little while and then have supper. I'll luring you lionie early. 
Mrs. Ryan. That'll be grand, now. 
Doris. I'm sorry that I said I would go. 

Mr. Bond. Well, a promise is a promise, you know, and I'm sure 
that you're not the girl to break hers, to go back on your word. 
Doris. I'm very tired and have a headache. (Rubs forehead.) 
Mr. Bond. The ride will rest you, and I'm sure that fresh air is the 
best cure for a headache. 

Mrs. Ryan. Such a grand supper, too, darlin". 

Doris. Really, Mr. Bond, you must excuse me. You can find plenty 
of girls who will be delighted to go. 

Mr. Bond. Yes, but I planned to take you. See? 
Mrs. Ryan. If I must say it, ye're a fool, Miss Field. 

Mr. Bond (turning to Mrs. Ryan). Mrs. 

Mrs. Ryan. Ryan's me name, sor. (Bozus.) 

Mr. Bond. I will manage this. Perhaps it would l)e better for you 
to leave us. 

Mrs. Ryan. Very well, sor. (At door to Doris.) Now, don't be 
after making a fool of yourself. It's a fdinc chance. 

Mr. Bond (emphatically). Good evening, Mrs. Ryan. (Mrs. Ryan 
goes out. L.) I don't wonder the old lady made you sore, she's altogether 
too aggressive. Now, I'm going around to the garage to have the chains 
put on the car. They say the roads are slippery and I don't want to run 
any risks when I have such a charming passenger. (Smiles.) I'll be back 
in a few minutes. 

Doris (crossing to him). Oh, please don't come back. I really 
mustn't go. 



KINDIJXG THE HEARTH FIRE 



23 



Mr. Bond {ptittiuii her on slioiildcr) . Oh, yes, you must. You owe 
it to yourself aucl to uie. Put ou your things. I'll be right liack. We'll 
have a glorious evening. 

(£.r// Mr. Bond, L. 




Ml p. Ryan: Ryan's me name, sor. 



(Doris takes up letter, reads it, erosses to dresser, takes photo from drawer, 
looks at it. kisses it. and puts it baek. Picks up hat and stands 

lioldin.i^ it. Knock at door.) 
Doris. Come in. 



24 KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 

{Enter Miss Brooks, L.) 

Miss Brcjoks. Kxcuse me if I am intruding. 

Doris. Oh, no, come right in. 

Miss Brooks. I'm your neighbor on the floor below. My name is 
Miss Brooks. 

Doris {slnikiiiii hands). I'm very glad to meet you. Mine is Doris 
Field. 

Miss Brooks. I've been wanting to come up and get acquainted ever 
since I heard that you were rooming here, but if you're going out — 

Doris (interrupting). I — (Hesitates, puts hat on dresser.) I'm 
glad you came. Won't you take the rocking chair? (Offers chair.) 

Miss Brooks. No, indeed ! You have it. You look dead tired. 
(Crosses to couch.) I'll curl up on the couch. (Sits.) I'm afraid I 
haven't been very neighborly. Oh! you're just washing your dishes. 
Don't let me interrupt (going to table). Let me help you. (Picks up 
cup cloth. Doris gets small pan and filling it tvith zvatcr from the pitcher 
begins la/ashing dishes.) 

Doris. Perhaps you aren't used to doing dishes. 

Miss Brooks. Yes, indeed. Housework is my profession. 

Doris. I don't see how housekeeping can be a profession. 

Miss Brooks. More important than any other, for everyone suffers 
if the housekeeping is poorly done. 

Doris. How do you do your work? I mean, how do you make it a 
profession? 

Miss Brooks. It's rather a long story. To begin with, I always liked 
housework better than any other kind of work, so when I had an oppor- 
tunity to go to college I naturally chose the course in Home Economics, 
or Domestic Science, as it is sometimes called. I can't tell you how 
much I enjoyed it. Every department of the work opened up new lines 
of interest for me. 

Doris. I didn't suppose they taught people to keep house in college. 
What did you study ? 

Miss Brooks. We had classes in foods and cookery, nutrition, gar- 
ment-making, household decoration, home nursing — all the things that re- 
late to the home. 

Doris. Do they teach such things ? 

Miss Brooks. Yes, indeed. When we had finished, most of the girls 
went out to teach in high schools, but I found a greater opportunity for 
service than in the school room. 

Doris. Go on, I'm awfully interested. 

Miss Brooks. Through the Welfare League I was engaged as visit- 
ing housekeeper in this city. Let's put the things away and then I will 
tell you about my work, if you wish me to. 

Doris (putting dishes in zvashstand). I never heard of that kind of a 
position. Sit down and tell me all about it. (Doris sits L. of table, Miss 
Brooks, R.) 

Miss Brooks. Do vou know the old legend of the hearth fire being 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 25 

the center of the home? Well, my work is to kindle the fire in the homes 
where it has gone out. 

Mrs. Ryan (outside, singing). "It's a long way to Tipperary." 
(Knocks.) 

Doris (rising). Oh, dear! There comes Mrs. Ryan. Come in. 
(Enter Mrs. Ryan.) 

;\Irs. Ryan. I was after hearin' ye up here and just come up to 
iii(|uire ahout Mrs. Murphy's baby. (Doris sits.) 

Miss Brooks. It's all right since I had them put it in ihe day nursery. 
All it needed was good, nourishing food. 

Mrs. Ryan. Look at that, now! An' how is Mrs. Burns makin' it? 

Miss Brooks. Splendidly. I showed her how to make out a budget 
of her household expenses, and now she is always able to pay her rent. 
Mrs. Ryan (rising), there's one thing I've wanted to talk over with you. 
Do you still rent out your parlor? 

Mrs. Ryan (grozcing excited). Sure, an I'm after lettin' the man 
go as soon as his month is out. I'm goin' to have the basement cleaned, 
too, as soon as Mike comes along. But I must be goin', T left the gas 
burnin' in the oven. 

(Exit Mrs. Ryan. L. 

Miss Brooks (sitting). This is the kind of work I am doing. It is 
a little here and a little there. But I am helping work out the household 
problem for over fifty wives and mothers. Don't you think that makes 
life very much worth while? 

DuRis. Do you know, that is why I left home. The household prob- 
lem became too big for me and so I came away. 

Miss Brooks. Where is your home, if I may ask? 

Doris. My people live on a farm near Kingston. 

Miss Brooks. The same old story. You have left a home in God's 
beautiful country, for this. 

Doris. It wasn't an attractive home. There was the continual grind, 
the washing and ironing, the farm help to cook for, the carrying in of 
wood and water, blistering in the hot kitchen all day with no let-up. I 
just couldn't stand it another day. (Wipes eyes zvith handkerchief.) 

Miss Brooks. Well, are you happy here? 

Doris. No. I've made up my mind that it's a mighty hard world for 
women. (Breaks dozvn and puts head on table.) 

Miss Brooks (going over to Doris). Nonsense. It's a very happy 
and beautiful world for women, and the country is the most beautiful place 
in it, if one onl}' knows how to make it so. Listen, don't cry, and I'll 
tell you a little secret. (Smooths Doris' hair.) Some day I'm going to 
live in the country. My hero (I met him when at college; he was studying 
agriculture) is laying the sticks wisely and carefully for our hearth fire. 
He has to get some of them by selling books to farmers, good books tell- 
ing them how to be better farmers. Sometimes those who need them most 
won't listen to him. 

Doris (raising head and zaiping eyes). I know how that is. 



26 KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 

Miss Brooks (standijig back of cliair. R.). I am so anxious I can 
hardly wait for the time to come when I can laj' my kindling on the 
hearth and see our little home glow with its light — the home of my 
dreams — the farm home. 

Doris. You'll find it different from what you think. I don't like to 
discourage you, hut a woman's work on the farm without any conveniences 
and with no help, is anything but pleasant. It isn't so hard for the men, 
they can always get help and machinery to work with, but it isn't that 
way in the house. I know all about it. 

Miss Brooks (sitting). How large a farm do you have? 

Doris. Two hundred acres. 

Miss Brooks. Is your father out of debt ? 

Doris (proudly). Yes, he has money in the bank. 

Miss Brooks. I imagine from what you say, that you do not have 
the modern conveniences, like running water, in the kitchen. 

Doris. No, father thinks that is just nonsense. 

Miss Brooks. Well, dear, your father needs a lesson. Perhaps your 
mother does. too. I'm not so sure but you need one. as well. Next sum- 
mer when you go home for your vacation I wish that you would invite 
me to go with you. I would like nothing better than to show those dear 
people how to spend a few hundred dollars in making an attractive home 
for their daughter. 

Doris. How to kindle our hearth fire. That is such a pretty idea. 

I'll be only too glad to have you go. 

Miss Brooks. In the meantime, be very careful al)Out your associates 
here. Do you think that you should stay in this house? 

Doris. If it isn't a good place, why do you room here? 

Miss Brooks. The Welfare League asked me to stay for a little 
while. I do more than one kind of work for them. You will be surprised 
to know that the policeman down here and I work together. (Looks at 
■zuatcli.) I must run along. I had no idea it was so late. (.Stands.) I 
am going to tell some poor women how to feed and care for their babies. 
(Doris rises.) If you ever feel the need of a friend come straight to me. 
(Takes Doris' hands.) 

Doris. You will never know how good a friend you have already 
been. Life looks more hopeful now. 

A/[iss Brooks. I am glad if I have helped. Good-bye. 

(E.vit Miss Brooks. L. 

Mrs. Ryan (outside). "It's a long way to Tipperary." 

Doris. (Puts coat in closet. Makes room tidy. Knock at door.) 

Come in. 

(Enter Mrs. Ryan. L.) 

Mrs. Ryan. I'm just after bringin' ye some clane towels. So ye've 
been receivin' a call from the first-floor-front lady. Was she after tellin' 
ye anything about herself, at all? She has queer ways, she has. 

Doris. I thought her real nice and kind, Mrs. Ryan. 

Mrs. Ryan. Oh, yes. she's all that. But don't lie after lettin' her 
put any strange notions into your liead, row. She had the nerve to tell 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 27 

me that I ought to be after usin" disinfectants in me house and a vacuum 
cleaner on mc rugs instead of me broom. The auld broom is good enough 
for me, ony time. Yes, and to turn the roomer out of me parlor so the 
girls could use it to entertain their friends. But I mustn't be after stop- 
pin' to talk. I'm goin' to take me sister's childern to see the movies. 
DoRi.s. Everyone seems to like the movies. 

Mrs. Ryan. They're puttin' on a corkin' show tonight. The name of 
it is "Why Women Sin." 

Doris. Have all the people in the house gone out? 
Mrs. Ryan. Sure, ye wouldn't be after expectin' them to stay in, 
would ye? An' you're goin' out, too. I was after hearin' the swell feller 
with the big car say he would be back for yc. Now, take my advice. 
darlin'. and don't disapp'int him. 

Doris. You don't always sing when you come upstairs. 
Mrs. Ryan (hitcrrupting). It ain't every girl who earns her bread 
and butter sellin' goods behind a counter can pick up the likes of him. 
{Bell rings.) There he is now. I'll send him up. 

(Exit Mrs. Ryan. L. 
{Enter Mr. Bond. L.) 
Mr. Bond. Not ready yet? I was afraid 1 would keep you waiting. 
I had to put in some more gasoline and fix the carburetors. I brought 
j'ou this as a treaty of peace. {Hands her a tzvo-pound bo.v of catidy.) 

Doris. Thank you, you arc very kind, but you know I told you I 
didn't feel like going. 

Mr. Bond. Yes, but you didn't mean it. Girls like to be coaxed. 
Doris. I did mean it. I'm sorry you came. 

Mr. Bond. Pshaw! It's a grand night. We'll drive along the lake 
boulevard to the Lodge, dance a few numbers, have supper, and be back 
by midnight, or one o'clock at the very latest. 

Doris. You must excuse me, Mr. Bond. I have made up my mind 
not to go. 

Mr. Bond. A woman can always change her mind. {Looks around.) 
Here's your hat. I'll i)ut it on for you. My, but your cheeks are rosy 
tonight. 

Doris (taking hat from him). Let me have the hat, please. 
Mr. Bond. Now, where's your coat? (Of^ens closet door.) Here it 
is. Now put it on. 

Doris (going to C.) This is going too far, Mr. Bond. 
Mr. Bond (foUozving her zvith coat). No, we're going a lot farther 
tonight; fifty miles if we have good luck. (Laughs. Stops and looks at 
her an instant.) Gee! but you're great when your eyes flash like that. 
(Tries to put coat on her. Gets one arm in the sleeve. Takes her in his 
arms. She struggles, breaks azcay from him. throi^'s coat on floor and 
runs lip stage. R, to zvindozu.) Come now, don't be so flighty. I won't 
hurt you. 

Doris. Will you please leave this room ? 

Mr. Bond. Not without you. I'll Iiave you yet. (Starts tozvard her.) 



28 KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 

Doris {opening zvindozu) Stop! (Bond stops, C.) One minute, 
please. There's a policeman down there on the corner. If you don't 
leave the room in five seconds, I'll call for his protection. {Points finger 
at him.) Now, go ! 

{Bond looks at her, cozvers, and goes out, L.) 

{Curtain) 



ACT III 

Scene, An attractive liz'ing rooiii. At tlie back is an open French zmn- 
duzc showing a stretch of country. On the left is a fireplace; on the right, a 
desk with telephone. A Morris chair stands by the library table, R. C. A 
fireside chair is at L. C. Mrs. Field discovered sitting by library table, 
reading. 

(Enter Mr. Field. L.. zcith coat. Puts it on cJiair, L.) 

Mr. Field. Well, mother, work all done? 

Mrs. Field. Yes, all but the dustin' and Doris is goin' to do that. 
With my new power washin' machine I had mj' clothes all on the line by 
ten o'clock. 

Mr. Field. I tell you, machinery saves labor in the house just as 
much as it does out in the field. Trouble is, women can't see it that way. 
Where is Daughter? {.Sits, L.) 

Mrs. Field. She went out to pick some flowers. You know her 
friend. Miss Brooks that was, is comin' here today. 

Mr. Field. Yes, she told me something about it. (Crosses legs.) 
Let's see. Ain't it about two years since she came home wath Doris that 
summer? We were powerful glad to have her persuade Daughter to quit 
the store. 

Mrs. Field. Yes, it was a great relief to me to have her home again. 
Do you remember what a time I had to get help? 

Mr. Field. I remember payin' that red-headed woman six dollars a 
week and she didn't do anything to speak of. 

Mrs. Field. And Mary, the one that burnt everything she cooked and 
then threw it out behind the barn ! She'd have ruined us soon. 

Mr. Field. 'Twas expensive business, all right. It didn't take Miss 
Brooks long to find out wdiat the house needed to save work. 

Mrs. Field (laughing). I'll never forget how she lit into you about 
not havin' runnin' water in the kitchen. Was it ninety-two miles she said 
I was walkin' every year up hill with a pail of water in my hand ? 

Mr. Field (rising). Seems to me, if I remember rightly, you didn't 
take to the notion any too quick of havin' the kitchen divided so as to 
make a wash room, and the water piped in a kitchen sink. 

Mrs. Field. I thought it was goin' to cost such a lot of money, pa. 

AIr. Field. Well, it didn't. What I paid for a new binder that I use 
only a week or so in the year, covered the whole expense. (Takes collar 
and tie out of coat pocket.) 

Mrs. Field. Yes, and now we'll have this to use every day as long as 
we live. It makes the work a sight easier to have the improvements in 
and the "labor savin' devices" as Miss Brooks calls 'em. We have a good 
deal to be grateful to her for. 

Mr. Field. I, for one, will be mighty glad to see her again. 

Mrs. Field. But she ain't Miss Brooks no longer. She was married 
last Wednesday. She an' her husband are on their way to his farm, an' 



30. KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 

they're goin' to stop over for a day with Doris. They're takin' their 
wcddin' trip in an autmobile. 

Mr. Field (putting on collar). I'm goin' over to Kingstown in the 
new runabout to look at some fence posts. Don't you want to put on 
your bonnet an' go 'long? Jones has a new bread-mixin' machine he wants 
to show you. 

Mrs. Field (rising and going to desk). Yes, I've been waintin' to go 
to the bank to deposit my chicken an' egg money. (Takes out bank book.) 
I'm quite proud of my bank account. 

Mr. Field. Let's see. Isn't this the first of the month? I'll get the 
cream check today. Half of that goes to you, you know. (Drops collar 
button and gets dozvn on knees to look for it.) 

Mrs. Field. How foolish we were to churn butter all this time when 
it is so much easier an' better to sell the cream right out of the milk ! 

Mr. Field. Where in tarnation is that button? I haven't my glasses. 

Mrs. Field (getting doivn) . Let me help you, pa. (Looks for it.) 
Here it is. (Picks it up and gizrs it to him.) 

Mr. Field (standing). The trouble with women is, they don't know 
how to plan their work so as to make it easy, like us men. I don't won- 
der Doris got discontented and went off like she did. 

Mrs. Field (Iiclping Mr. F. zuith his collar). Do you know, pa, I'm 
worried about Doris. 

Mr. Field. I don't see why. Doris is all right, a fine girl. 

Mrs. Field (tying Mr. Field's tie). She isn't happy an' contented 
even in the "new home," as she calls it. 

Mr. Field. I hope she ain't wantin' to go back to the city. 

Mrs. Field. No, it isn't that. But she seems to be hankerin' for 
somethin'. 

Mr. Field. Hain't you just borryin' trouble, ma? I ain't noticed it. 

Mrs. Field. Men don't see with mother's eyes. I'm afraid it's Dave 
she's missin'. She leaves the room when his name is mentioned. Ned will 
tease her in spite of me. Last night I found her cryin' after she'd gone 
to bed. Hearin' about her friend's marriage has made her worse lately. 

Mr. Field (going to desk and taking out some papers). Where is 
Dave now ? 

Mrs. Field. He rented his farm and w^ent west soon after him and 
Doris broke off. I always thought maybe it was because they had trouble 
she went away. Least she said she was goin' away the last time he was 
at our house. 

^Ir. Field. You've always stuck to it that there was somethin' be- 
tween 'euL But I don"t believe it. They weren't old enough yet. 

Mrs. Field. Why, pa, we were married before we were as old as 
they were. Don't you remember? Doris is pretty set when she once 
makes up her mind? But I hear that Dave is goin' to marry a school 
teacher out where he is. so she'll have to get him out of her head. 

Mr. Field. We'll do all we can to make her happy here, mother. Now 
we must get started. 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 31 

Mrs. Field. Hush ! Here comes Doris. Don't let her see that we've 
been talkin' about her. 

(Enter Doris loaded zuith flozvers.) 

DoRLS. Aren't these beautiful, mother? I'm going to make this into 
a bridal bower for the sweetest, dearest bride in the whole world. 

Mrs. Field (smelling Hozuers). Yes, the flowers are lovely. I'm 
glad we have time to enjoy them. 

Mr. Field. Your mother and me are goin' into town in the runabout. 
Don't you think she's lookin' pretty pert, today? You'll have to look out 
or she'll be better lookin' than you. (Pats Mrs. Field on back.) 

Mrs. Field. Pshaw ! We ain't on our honeymoon trip, pa. 

(E.rcunt Mr. and Mrs. Field, L. 
(Doris arranges flozvers in z'ases.) 
(Enter Ned, R.) 

Ned. What you doing, Sis? 

Doris. Decorating for the bride. Bring me in the dust-mop and I will 
tell you all al)Out it. 

(E.rit Ned, L. 
(Enter Ned zuith dnst-mop.) 

Ned. Here's your mop. What bride? You? Are you goin' to be 
married ? 

Doris. No, silly. Miss Brooks. She was married last — 

Ned (interrupting and zvaving mop in the air). She's comin' here? 
Hurrah! Wasn't she a good scout, though? Do you remember how she 
made the old man make a tennis court? 

Doris. You mustn't call father "the old man." 

Ned. She made him come across, I tell you. 

Doris. Where do you pick up so much slang? 

Ned. Then she fixed my base-ball suit and persuaded ma to let me 
play with the nine. Gee, I'll be tickled to death to see her. Is she bringing 
a husband? I don't think I'll like him. (Throzvs mop on floor.) 

Doris. Don't be jealous, brother. You'll like him, too. He has made 
a most wonderful home for her, near a big lake. If you treat him prop- 
erly maybe he'll let you come and go fishing with him. 

Ned. Gee ! That would be swell. (Picks np mop and begins dusting 
floor.) 

Doris. I'll have to find some more vases. 

(Exit Doris, R. 
(.Mrs. Ryan appears at C. entrance.) 

Ned. Why. hello, Mrs. Ryan. Just in time. (JJ'azrs mop.) 

Mrs. Ryan. Good niornin'. Ned. Where is Miss Doris? 

Ned. She went to get some more vases. 

Mrs. Ryan (entering). I'm goin' to telephone over to the store and 
have your mother bring me out some bakin' powder. I'm after makin' 
some biscuits. 

Ned (looking out of zvindozv) . What's Olaf comin' in for? 

Mrs. Ryan. How should I know, now? (Picks np receiver.) 



32 KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 

Ned. I'll go out and see. 

(Exit Ned, C. 

Mrs. Ryan (telephoning) . Hello, Central. Give mc Center 4-2. No, 
I mane 4-2, not Center. I'm always after forgettin' these pesky numbers. 
Is this the grocery? 1 mane, is this the store where they sell groceries? 
Well, this is Mrs. Ryan, at the Field farm. Yes ... If Mrs. Field 
comes in the store, will you be after tellin' her to bring me some bakin' 
powder? . . . Yes, bakin' powder . . . lliat's all. (Hangs up 
receiver.) 

(During the aboz'e conversation Olaf appears at C. entrance and grins at 

Mrs. Ryan.) 

Olaf. Hello, sweetheart ! 

Mrs. Ryan (turning and seeing him). Don't ye come another step 
with them dirty fate. Nor don't ye be after callin' me any of your swate 
names, nayther. 

Olaf. Ain't you my best girl? 

Mr.s. Ryan. Not that I knows anything about. What do ye want, 
anyhow ? 

Olaf. I yust come to ask you if you tank you marry me some day. 

Mrs. Ryan. Get out, now ! Wasn't I after tellin' ye I'd never marry 
a Swade? 

Olaf. You tank you marry Pete, den? He ban von Norvegan. 

Mrs. Ryan. No, I tell yous, I won't marry any of ye. I'm goin' back 
to town where I can go to the movies every night. 

Olaf. I tank I buy von Ford car, ya. 

Mrs. Ryan (interested). What's that ye're sayin'? 

Olaf. I'm goin' to buy von Ford, sure t'ing. 

Mrs. Ryan. Listen to this now. When you can drive up to the gate 
in your own Ford car, then I'll know ye mane business. 

Olaf. Den you tank you marry me, huh? 

Mrs. Ryan. Yes, I will ; for we can take it to town an' make our 
fortunes runnin' a jutncy-bus. Now go. (Ned appears at it'indozV: Olaf 
puts his arm around Mrs. Ryan and Icisses her on the ear. Mrs. Ryan 

slaps him.) Get out, I say! 

(Exit Olaf, L. 
(Enter Ned, C.) 
Ned. Ah, Mrs. Ryan, I saw Olaf kiss you, I did. 

Mrs. Ryan (shaking fist at him). Ye pesky little devil, ye're always 
spyin' round. 

(Exit Mrs. Ryan. C. 
(Enter Doris. R., with I'ascs filled "with floi^'crs.) 
Doris. I suppose you have the dusting all done. (Ned dusts vigor- 
ously. Auto horn is heard, R.) Here they are now. (Rushes otit, R.) 
(Ned takes out pocket mirror and cotnh and arranges hair and tie.) 

(Enter Mr. and Mrs. Hartwell with Doris, R.) 
Mrs. Hartwell. This is little brother. (Shakes hands.) My, Ned, 
how you've grown ! I believe you're as tall as I am. You'll soon have 
to put on long trousers. 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 



33 



Ned. Say, will you make ma buy 'em for me? 

Mrs. Hartwell. We'll see. Now, Ned, I want you to know Mr. 
Hartwell, our new playfellow. I hope that you will be as good to him as 
you've been to me. 

Ned (shaking hands). How do you do? Miss Brooks and I used to 
go fishin'. 

Mr. Hartwell. So you like to tish, do you? 

Ned. You bet! I caught — (They go up stage talking.) 

Mrs. Hartwell. How beautiful the flowers are. Confess they are 
in my honor. Thank you, dear. (Puts arm around her.) 

DoRLS. I am hoping that we may keep you with us for a few days. 

Mrs. Hartwell. Thank you, not this time. I'll come back again if 
you will invite me. But now I can hardly wait, I am so anxious to see my 
new home. 




Hailwell: My, Ned, liow ^•llu \f- si'i'Wn. 



Doris. And to kindle the hearth fire. 

Mrs. Hartwell. That's it. I am glad that you still remember the old 
legend. It has meant much to me. Now, if you will excuse me for a few 
minutes, I'll write a card to mother. I remember it is about time for the 
postman. 

Doris. I haven't forgotten how you used to watch for him and the 
daily letter (laughing) . Do you want to go to your room? 

Mrs. Hartwell. Oh, no. I'll write here on the table. ( Takes cards 
and pen out of bag. Sits at table.) 

Doris. I'll run out and dispose of this apron and dusting cap. 
(Crosses to R.) 

Mrs. Hartwell. Oh. don't, they're so becoming. Do you have many 
hired men to cook for this summer? 



34 KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 

Doris. Didn't I write you the good news? I sent for Mrs. Ryan and 
she is keeping house for the men. She is very different from what she 
was before she came under your influence. 

Mrs. Hartwell. Your influence, you mean, dear. How I shall enjoy 
seeing her again. (Begins zi'ritiiig.) 

(Exit Doris, R. 

Ned (coining to C.) Dad rented me some land and I've joined the 
corn club. I'm going in for the State Industrial Contest. If I win one 
of the prizes, I'm going to the fair this fall. 

Mr. Hartwell. That's great ! I'll do all I can to help you, Ned. 

Ned (looking out of zmndozv). Gee whiz! Here comes Mrs. Stringer. 
Here's where I duck. 

Mr. Hartwell (catching ar liiin). What, leave me to face the music? 
That isn't playing fair. 

(Enter Mrs. Stringer. C. Ned ducks under her arm. She slips on the rug 
and sits dozvn on the floor.) 

Mrs. Stringer. Why don't people learn their kids better manners? 

Mrs. Hartwell (running to her). Are you hurt? 

Mr. Hartwell (running to her). Let me help you. 

Mrs. Stringer. No, I ain't hurt, just shook-up, like. (They help her 
up.) It's them pesky, slippery floors. Doris was set on havin' 'em, even 
if they do break a person's back. As if a good rag or ingrain carpet wa'n't 
good enough for anybody. I sez to her mother, sez I, "Molly," I sez, 
"You might as well live on a roller skatin' rink an' be done with it." Yes. 
indeed. (Sits, C.) 

Mrs. Hartwell (sitting L. of table). I'm glad it didn't hurt you. 
You're Mrs. Stringer, I believe? (Mr. Hartwell sits, R.) 

Mrs. Stringer. I remember you now. You're the young woman what 
come him. with Doris from the city when she was clerkin' in a store and 
talked her father into tearin' the house all to pieces an' puttin' in a bath- 
room, an" all sich nonsense. I sez to Molly, sez I, "I should think the 
house you an' your man have lived in ever since you were married ought 
to be good enough for Doris, even if she is tryin' to ape after city folks." 

Mrs. Hartwell. Don't you think that they have been happier and 
more comfortable since they rebuilt the house ? 

Mrs. Stringer. I s'pose the new heatin' stove in the cellar what heats 
the rooms all over the house alike, bedrooms an' all, does make 'em more 
comfortable in winter. But I sez to Jake, I sez, sez I, "It seems like it 
must take a powerful lot of wood to keep it goin'." 

Mr. Hartwell. I don't think that they burn wood. 

Mrs. Stringer. Likely not. As I was sayin', they may be more com- 
fortable, but I can tell you one thing, Doris ain't overly happy with all her 
new fixin's round. 

Mrs. Hartwell. What makes you think so? 

Mrs. Stringer. I know a thing or two. She won't be happy as long 
as her beau is gallivantin' round the country and fallin' in love with other 
women. I've been around this house off an' on a good deal an' I ain't no 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 35 

fool even if I look it. I sez to Airs. Blake, sez I, "I can smell a rat as 
far as anyone." 

Mrs. Hartwell. What do you mean? Doris never told me that she 
had a lover. 

Mrs. Stringer. No, Doris is pretty close-mouthed. She ain't sayin' 
anything. But young Dave Dalton used to be mighty sweet on her. Then 
all of a sudden they broke off short like. Folks 'round here say they had 
a quarrel. She went to the city an' he rented his farm an' went west. 
Everybody's tellin' how he's goin' to marry a school teacher. That's the 
way men is. But Doris, here, she won't look at nobody. Turns 'em all 
down, like. 

Mrs. Hartwell {rising and crossing to Mr. Hartwell). Dave Dalton! 
Isn't that the young man yon used to write about when you were here 
selling books? 

Mr. Hartwell. Yes, Dave and I were together a lot. He got inter- 
ested in my book and took me around in his Ford to see the farmers. 

Mrs. Stringer. I know you now. I thought I'd seen you before. 
You are the man who was sellin' books on improvin' the farm. 

Mr. Hartwell (rising). Yes. I remember you didn't think much of 
my books, Mrs. Stringer. 

Mrs. Stringer (rising). Well, maybe they done some good. But I 
guess I'd better be goin' on out into the kitchen and see Molly. I just 
come over to borry some sugar an' saluratus. I'm goin' to make a cake 
an' my box ain't come yet from the mail order house. I always buy from 
them when I have the ready money. I said to my man, Jake, I sez, sez I, 
"I'll jest run over and borry some off of Molly." Molly's a good neighbor. 
Yes, indeed. 

(Exit into kitchen, L. 

Mrs. H.\rtwell (anxiously) . Did Dave Dalton ever say anything to 
you about Doris? 

Mr. Hartwell. He told me about a girl he was very much interested 
in. I had no idea it was your friend. He said — I have forgotten the cir- 
cumstances, it's so long ago. It seems to me there was a misunderstand- 
ing. I remember he blamed the mother. 

Mrs. Hartwell. Didn't you tell me that you stopped over night with 
him when you came to get me? I thought Mrs. Stringer said he was out 
west. 

Mr. Hartwell. Yes, he came home about a week ago. He's going 
to work his farm again. 

Mrs. Hartwell. That looks as though lie were planning to get mar- 
ried. 

Mr. Hartwell. He didn't say anything about it. We were talking 
about stock and improvements for the most part. 

Mrs. Hartwell. Well, I'm going to find out if there's any truth in 
this gossip. I'd like to know if Doris does care for him. 

Mr. Hartwell. Most of the gossip in these rural communities is just 
hearsay. "Tommy rot" I call it. Dave's a fine fellow, as fine as I ever 
met. 



36 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 



Mrs. Hartwell (going to L.). Here's a telephone. Vou call him up 
and ask him to come over. Then we'll see what happens. 

Mr. Hartwell {f lifting his arm around her). You little match-maker. 
Do 3'ou scent a romance ? 




Mrs. Stringer: I just come over to borry some sugar aiul some saleratus. 



Mrs. Hartwell. Wouldn't you like to see our two good friends as 
happy as we are? Hurry up and "phone before Mrs. Stringer gets her 
sugar and saleratus. (Takes teleplioiic book.) 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 37 

Mr. Hartwei.l. And finishes her first story, "I scz to her. sez I." 
Never mind looking in the book, dear. I reniemhcr his number. We 
were pretty intimate that summer. (Sits at desk. Takes up receiver). 
Hello, Central? Give me 6-4 call 2, please .... yes .... 
This you, Dave? Good, this is Hartwell. Yes .... with my wife 
. congratulations? Thanks, I deserve them. Say, we are stay- 
ing at the Fields. My wife wants to know you .... can't wait. 
Say, can't you drive over? .... Thanks, we can't this time. Yes, 
come right away, as soon as you can get here. We'll expect yon as soon 

as your machine can nake the trip Good! Good-bye. (fhiii^^s 

up receiver.) 1 wonder if Doris is the girl he used to talk so much about. 

Mrs. Hartwell. I should think she would have told me. I confided 
in her. 

Mr. Hartwell (risiiii;;). We'll soon know. I hope she is. She's 
peach — just the girl — 

{Enter Doris, ivitli leiiwnade on small tray.) 

Doris (laughing). Is that what you call her (Mr. and Mrs. Hartivcll 
look self-conscious), your wife, I mean. You two turtle-doves must turn 
your attention to something more acid than peaches. Let me hand you a 
lemon by way of contrast; (Serves lemonade.) 

Mr. Hartwell. It is well said that an optimist is one who takes a 
lemon, when given to him, and makes it into lemonade. 

Mrs. Hartwell. Doris must be a good optimist then, for this is de- 
licious. 

Mr. Hartwell. Just the thing after our dusty ride. 

Doris. Let's drink to the health of the new bride and groom. (All 
drink.) 

Mr. Hartwell (looking at Doris). And may there be many more of 
them. 

Doris (cluingi)ig the subject). Who takes up the work you have left? 
I should think those mothers and babies would miss you dreadfully. 
(Hartwell takes empty glasses and then amuses liimself zvith a magazine 
at table.) 

Mrs. Hartwell. I turned them over to a very capable woman from 
the department of Home Economics in our university. She seems well 
able to handle the work. 

Doris. I was glad to hear that Ida Johnson is delighted with the life 
in the Jane Addams Cottage. All she needed was to have her desires for 
a good time directed along right lines. 

Mrs. Hartwell. Yes, Ida is a good girl. The home provides the 
kind of recreation the girls enjoy. She doesn't care to go to public dances 
now. 

Doris. The Welfare League is surely doing a good work. 

Mrs. Hartwell. I'm glad that you think so. I loved it. Now, of 
course, I am anxious to learn some of the problems of the farm home. 

Mr. Hartwell. Seems to me that you have been working out some 
of them already. 



38 KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 

Doris. Yes, in our home. I can't tell you how much your wife has 
done for us. 

Mrs. H.\rtwet.i. (looking out of French zvindotv, C). Isn't the coun- 
try hcautiful ! We never really appreciate it until we have lived in the 
dirty, noisy city; the flowers and the birds and the beautiful stretches of 
woodland and pasture. 

Mr. Hartwell. And the sunsets. Don't forget them. I have never 
enjoyed anything more than the sunsets, and the sunrises, too, when I am 
up early with my farm work. How I love it all. {Sits in Morris cliair, C.) 

Mrs. Hartwell {crossing to him). And to think that I am actually 
out here to enjoy it all w-ith you. {Sits on arm of chair. Hartwell puts 
arm around her.) It's too good to be true. (Doris zvalks hack to imndoic. 
Mrs. H. rises and follou's.) You must come often and share our home 
with us. {Puts arm around her.) 

Doris. Thank you, dear. 

{Enter Mrs. Field, L., carrying packages.) 

Mrs. Field. How do you do — I s'pose it's Mrs. Hartwell now. Well, 
{sliakcs hands), I'm mighty glad to see you. There's been a big improve- 
ment in this place since you were here before. 

Mrs. Hartwell. I'm interested in the changes you have made. Let 
me introduce my husliand, Mrs. Field, Mr. Hartwell. 

Mrs. Field {shaking ha)ids). Congratulations, sir. You've got a good 
wife and she'll make you a good home. 

Mr. Hartwell. Thanks, I agree with you. 

Doris. What interesting looking packages you have brought, mother. 
What's this? 

Mrs. Field. This is a vacuum cleaner Jones wanted us to try. It 
will save carrying the rugs out and beating 'em. 

Mrs. Hartwell. I think you'll like it. 

Mrs. Field. Here's a cream whip that will whip cream in half the 
time it takes to do it in the old way, and an apple corer. 

Mrs. Hartwell. What's this? 

Mrs. Field. This is a fruit press. It'll save a lot of time when the 
cannin' and preservin' season comes. Here is a dish drainer. You just 
have to wash the dishes good in soap and water an' put 'em into this. 
Then you set this in the sink and turn boiling water onto 'em. The 
dishes almost dry themselves. Mrs. Smith has one, an' she says it saves 
her ten or fifteen minutes everj' time she washes her dishes. 
{During the aboz'c conversation all are busy opening and examining the 

packay;es.) 

Mrs. Hartwell. These give me some new ideas for my kitchen. W^e 
busy farmers' wives must be on the lookout for devices that will save time 
and work. 

Doris. Wouldn't you like to go to your room ? You must be tired 
after your trip. 

Mrs. FIartwell. I am somewhat soiled. My suitcas° is in the auto. 

Mr. Hartwell. I'll bring it in. 

{Exit Mr. Hartwell, L. 



KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 39 

Mrs. Field. It seems so good to see you with Dori? again. I never 
can be thankful enough to you for wliat you did for me and mine. 

Mrs. Hartwell. Please don't mention it. It was nothing. Your 
friendship and your daughter's have meant everything to me. 

Mrs. Field. You must stay with us as long as you can now, and 
come over often to see us. 

Mrs. Hartwell. Thank you, Mrs. Field, I shall be glad to. 

Mrs. Field. Now, I nnist feed the chickens in the Ijrooder. I know 
you and Doris want to have a good visit. 

(Exit Mrs. Field, L. 

Mrs. Hartwell. Do you have to start lunch? I will help you. 

Doris. Oh, no. I put the meat and vegetables in the fireless cooker 
long ago. 

Mrs. Hartwell. So you even have one of those. Good ! You are 
up-to-date. 

Doris. When father found that motiier really needed things to make 
the work easier, he was ready to buy anything we suggested. 

Mrs. Hartwell. I believe all men are that way. The trouble is they 
don't realize the inconveniences their wives are tolerating. 

Doris. Come, dear. I'm .going to give you the room opening on the 
sleeping-porch. 

Mrs. Hartwell. The one with the river view? Good! 

{Exeunt Doris and Mrs. Hartzvcll. L. 
{Enter Mr. Hartzvell ivifJi suitcase, and David, R.) 

David. Now for the charming bride. I'm crazy to meet her. Do I 
get a chance to kiss her? 

Mr. Hartwell. The idea of a staid old bachelor like you talking of 
kissing the bride. {Langlis.) 

David. The only opportunity we "staid old bachelors" have to grow 
sentimental. (Looks around.) Believe me, this house has changed some 
since I saw it last. 

Mr. Hartwell. When was that ? 

David. Three years ago, before I went west. 

Mr. Hartwell. Farm houses are being improved all over the country 
and it's about time. Excuse me a minute till I take this suitcase upstairs, 
to my wife. 

(Exit Hartzvell, L. 
(Dave wanders around room, picks up a photograpli from mantel and 

stands looking at it tvith his back to the door. Enter Doris, L.) 

Dave (thinking it is Hartzvell). This is the woman I had always 
hoped to make my wife, but she couldn't see things my way. (Doris looks 
over his shoulder at picture, then tries to slip out. David turns and sees 
her.) Oh! It's you. Doris. Please don't go unless you are offended at 
what you heard me say. You know it's true, dead true. 

Doris. Dave, I'm not offended. You're the one to feel that way. 
(Comes forward and shakes hands.) I have always wanted to apologize 
for the way I talked to you the last time I saw you. 



40 KINDLING THE HEARTH FIRE 

\ 

David. Oh, forget it ! You were driven to it. i 

Doris. No, I was young and silly and didn't know what I was talk- j 

ing about. 

David. That's past and gone. Let's begin all over again. 

Doris. Very well, I'm perfectly willing — glad to. 

David (taking her Jwnd) . No, let's begin where I left off. I still 
love you, have lieen more crazy than ever about you since we've been 
separated — 

Doris (drazuing azvay her hand). How about the other girl? ' 

David (taking her hand again). I tell you, there never was any other 
girl. The gossips have been busy with my name, I hear. Do you think 
you could change your mind and marry a farmer? 

Doris. I'll never marry anyone but a farmer, one of nature's noble- 
men. 

Dave. And his name? 

Doris. And his name shall be called David. (David takes her in liis 
arms.) 

Ned (looking through zcindozv). Say, Sis, Dave was your beau after 
all, wasn't he? 

(Curtain) 



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